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Farewell ye cousins farly flung Taehell, taehell wi thee I dinnae snivel, I just cry drivel When you seek your lead from me
My errors bold are growing old Wi ma fingrs in ma lugs Don't knot yer kilt aboot milk spilt Put whisky in yer mugs
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
In far Beijing, ma heid did bring A thocht, twas michty grand Forget Stirling, Hae the Gaithering In China, nae Scotland
Adventure time, it's all apiece Nae matter whaur it's held My tartan shop is a must do stop But never in Dunkeld
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
I hae a plan, sure I'm the man Wi muckle siller sure But I'll no tell you, ya bluidy foo Yer just the taxit poor
Whits yer pairt in this? Yer heid's amiss If ye think yer fir these matters It's my wee game, and I'll tak nae blame I'll leave Scoatlan's name in tatters
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
It's wonder not, I'd sure have thought That my shoulder's tae the wheel, Of tartan days, far far aways Tailorin's what buys the meal
Ye maybe speir, why I'm over here But yer a glaikit, cheeky chiel I'll hae the laugh, yer naught but draff And I'm the sleekit deil
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
What do you mean, We've lost 14? There ne'r wis sic a thing Ye can wring yer hans, and greet 'boot clans I care less a heilan fling
Ye maun get the point, of the great disjoint atween VS and wur bonnie land I maun demur, fae Callendar The truth's mickle in demand
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
And so goes on, his sad wee song His blethers, cants, and chants It's sad to say, in this modren day He can talk such pish and pants
Waurs worst of all, Is the bluidy gall for nae mair than a raith Is the 24k, filched aff in pay Fir which we get nae faith
Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea
On April 1st, the balloon must burst When he fangles his bestest ettle EventScotland's team, wi een agleam Will be joukin in fine fettle
'Tak tent', he'll say, 'I'm the braw Cantlay' Whit's next fae the bluidy loon? 'Stuff Bannockburn, and Glamis can burn We'll gaither in London toon'
Dirge Sae cantonlay sae wantonlay Sae rantinly gaes me I'll jink aroon, a fine balloon And daunder oer the sea